Spitfire
by UnofficialBrideOfPeregrinTook
Summary: There's a lot more to the girl Remy met in the bar than meets the eye... Rated T for violence. My first fic.
1. Chapter 1: Nothing New

5

Chapter 1: Nothing New 

New Orleans: a city in southern Louisiana; a little bit... well... what some folks might call "dangerous," but that's the way I like it. It's not fun without a little bit of "danger" here and there. And I, being me, know that better than anybody. I've lived my whole life as a thief, a street hustler, and never regretted it.

So, here I am, making my usual nightly run downtown to gamble. I've beaten a lot of people. Shoot! It's how I got my name! Well, one of them. And I guess I'm about to live up to that name, 'cause as I'm walking in, people almost look afraid of me. Or is that respect?

I almost laugh. Don't know. Don't care.

Like I said, around here, I've earned a name for myself. And given the fact that it's been three hours since I came in, and I've already hung a bunch of stupid people's wallets out to dry, I'd say they gave it to me well.

The name "Remy LeBeau" is heard a lot around here, and I like it. The sound of my own name is music to my ears. My other name, which I got by ticking a guard or two off back at the jail by practically bankrupting them's less heard of, and that could be a good thing. Remy's a "no-good" gambler who always wins (without fail.) But I'd say, if you don't tick me (him) off somehow, I'm probably gonna like you. It's how I am.

Gambit, on the other hand, is a little bit more... explosive. I mean that very literally. He's not the kind of guy to get up in your face without having a reason, and it does take a little coaxing to get him to blow. Not emotionally blow. I mean physically. As in he just might send a stream of kinetically-charged playing cards right at you and send you through a wall (that never gets old!) but it does take a lot. If you've really struck one of his nerves, you'll probably get hit by a charged bo staff upside the head. Not exactly pleasant. For you.

How do I know? He's me. Yes, you heard me right. I'm a mutant. And not at all ashamed of it. But I do like to hide it, especially in a place like this. Where there are a lot of "normal" people, who either fear you or hate your guts and want them plastered on the wall behind you because you're different, and therefore dangerous.

Hence the creation of the M.R.D. (Mutant Response Division), which is basically S.W.A.T. for freaks, like me. They're the reason I try to hide the fact that I ain't human, 'cause they'll bust my butt if they find out. Trust me, I know. But that's another story.

Anyway, usually if I take my eyes off my cards for even a second, I regret it, but not this time. They wander to a girl sitting at the bar, talking to the bartender. He looks away and goes back to work, and she turns around in her seat. She ain't drop-dead gorgeous, but she's pretty. A sweet kind of pretty. She's got blonde hair (pulled back in a ponytail with a side bang hanging in her face) and brown eyes, and soon I discover she's got a killer smile to go with it. After this round (which is close to over), I decide I'm gonna go talk to her. Maybe buy her a drink. Try to charm her (and because it's me, it shouldn't be too terribly hard.) Her eyes don't leave me for even a second as I finish off by throwing in a little card trick, but as I start making my way across the room, she turns back around, and it looks like she's pretending that she didn't notice me. I sit in the empty stool next to her casually and lean up against the bar. She still ain't looking at me, but she's fighting not to smile. A good sign.

"Bonjour."

She finally turns towards me. "Hey." She looks away again, still fighting not to smile.

Awkward silence.

I plaster a cocky grin on my face and say smoothly, "C'mon, petite, I don't bite."

She laughs out loud. "I guess not!" She's beaming. "Casey Candid."

"Remy LeBeau."

"Stuff you did back there." She waves towards a poker table. "Pretty dang impressive."

"It's easier than it looks."

She must like sarcasm, 'cause she laughs again. "Looks like you've been at it fer a while," she says.

"I have."

"How many people ya beaten?"

"Mmm... a few..." Another cocky grin involuntarily stretches across my face, and she giggles. Successful, thus far...

But I am surprised that she ain't givin me the cold shoulder yet. Usually a girl like her's rolled her eyes and left by now, but she's still camped out next to me. We carry on a casual, small-talk conversation, but after a short silence, I notice something.

"Why're you wearin' gloves?"

They're jet black and fingerless, but it's not _that_ cold in here.

Casey almost looks a little nervous; she just stares at the tabletop. "Uh... I don't know. I just... am." She's extremely uncomfortable, and I can tell.

So, I decide, I'm gonna act like that answer satisfies me. I nod. "Whatever floats yer boat, petite."

Casey smiles, and though she's trying to hide it, I can smell the relief that forced it. She folds a piece of the black fabric back, reveals a digital watch, looks at it, and calmly loses her cool. "Wish I could stay longer," she says, "but I gotta go."

"How'd you get here?" I ask coolly, fumbling with the keys in my pocket.

"I walked," she says, her face lighting up a little bit. I think she knows what I'm getting at.

I pull the keys outta my pocket and wave them in the air, plastering that award-winning cocky grin on my face again. "Wanna ride?"

Casey's face finishes lighting up, and she nods and practically jumps to her feet.

I chuckle a little bit (I'm finding her pretty darn cute), motion for her to follow me, and lead her out the door. (I did say it would be easy to get on her good side, didn't I?)

I lead her out into the back of a not-so-well-lit parking lot, to my ride.

"I know," I mumble. "It ain't much."

I lean up against the side of a red Mustang with black racing stripes and grin. I open her door, and smiling she gets in. I go around the back, pump my fist into the air ('cause this is the last thing I was expecting from her), and climb in. Winking at her, I turn the key and the engine growls.

"Hang on!" I practically call over the engine, the tires squealing as I floor it.

We tear down a back dirt road, blaring country music, kicking up dust and going at about a hundred miles an hour.

Casey lets her hair down (the sidebang now blocking her left eye) and lets go of the handle she had been holding onto. Out of everybody I've ever taken for a spin, she's the only one who doesn't look even moderately freaked out; as a matter of fact, she's got her hands up, and as soon as I see this, I speed up to about one fifty.

Finally, we slow down and stop in the middle of the road (it's maybe two in the morning and we are the only ones out there). I glance over at Casey, who's out of breath.

"So?"

She starts laughing. "I never thought I'd _ever_ drive that fast! Gah! Again!"

I chuckle, 'cause clearly, she's having the time of her life, and it's rubbing off on me. So, I turn the Mustang around and book it back down the road.

At the halfway point, I start slowing down again. Casey puts down her window, folds her arms in the opening, and puts her head on top of her arms. Her hair's blowing around in the breeze that's blowing through the cab. I can't help but smile. Unlike the last time I picked up on her emotions, now I can tell she's at peace. If she hadn't moved to flip her hair outta her face, I mighta thought she was asleep.

As we cruise down the street, I keep finding myself looking over at Casey and smiling. _Eh_, I think. _Just checking on her._ Then I note something else:

My breath catches in my throat when she turns back around. Puts down the window. Sits back down in her seat. And my head spins when she shoots another million-dollar grin my way.

We're up on a hill, and a big chunk of swampy woods separates us from a huge house at the bottom. The road turns into the woods, and a little bit of moonlight trickles in through gaps in the leaves. Casey starts getting a little uneasy as we get close to the clearing.

"What's up, cheri?"

"You can stop here, Remy. I can walk from here."

I point to the house in the dell. "That yer place?"

"Yep."

"Alright, then."

Reluctantly, Casey climbs out of her side, takes a few steps, but stops dead in her tracks.

_Strange_, I think, and soon get out of the car and come up behind her, gently putting my hand on her shoulder in case she has any doubts I'm there.

"Frozen?"

No response.

"Casey? You alright?"

"Yeah," she says, although I can tell she's not.

"Sure?"

"Yeah."

"Liar..."

To my surprise, she turns around and wraps her arms around my waist and puts her head on my chest, almost as if she's checking for a heartbeat. Slowly, I raise my arms to her back and pull her closer to me. She's saying "I don't wanna leave" without words. And, shockingly, I find myself doing the same thing. The moon's the only thing watching us now, and I'm thankful for it.

After standing like this for a while (I lose track of the time and don't care), Casey finally lets me go. It's cold where she was hanging on, and a tiny part of me wants to pull her back, but I fight the urge. I nod at her and smile a goodbye and turn around to get back into the cab of the Mustang, but she grabs my hand and interlocks her fingers with mine before I can go anywhere. I smile.

"You really don't want me to go, do ya?"

"No," she admits. "And I have somethin' to give you."

She stands on her tiptoes and kisses my cheek. "Thanks," she says, beaming and turning to leave. She shuffles her feet down the hill and out of the woods, and I can swear it hurts just as much for her to leave me as it hurts for me to see her go.

Now only one question stays unanswered: Why does she seem so afraid to go back home?


	2. Chapter 2: Candid

3

Chapter 2: Candid 

After watching Casey sneak around to the front of her house, I take my chances and slide down the hill myself, crouching behind a bush underneath an open window. I hear the door open and Casey go inside. Judging from what I'm hearing, she goes up the stairs, makes it about halfway up, and freezes dead in her tracks.

"You were supposed to be home by eleven," a deep, tired voice fairly growls.

"Sorry..." is Casey's less-than-put-together response. "I... I got held up..."

"What do you mean... 'got held up?' You _better_ not have been in the French Quarter again..."

"I wasn't," Casey, who has pulled herself together, says coolly. "I was back at campus. I left my phone there and had to go get it."

"Then why are you back so late?"

"Daddy, I was stuck in traffic!"

I cringe. Not only is this guy a freaking bad apple, he's her father!

"Your car's in the shop..." he says unsurly.

"Uh... Melissa gave me a ride."

I'm gonna guess Melissa is one of her friends.

"And you both got stuck?"

"Yeah..."

"Then why didn't you call me?" Candid growls. "You had your phone!"

"I couldn't. It... it kinda died."

"What about Melissa?"

"Uh... her's was dead, too," Casey says quickly.

By now, I've discovered Casey's just as much of a talented liar as I am.

It gets dead quiet.

I really get brave and take a peek through the window. Candid's looking at Casey like he ain't sure if he should believe her or not, but after a while, his face softens a little bit. I duck back down and sigh with relief. He took the bait!

"Go to bed, Casey," he says after a little silence. "It's late."

I hear Casey shuffle up the stairs and hear her door shut.

A whole new parade of questions march through my mind. What would make Candid so suspicious? Yeah, so his little girl was out a little later than she was supposed to be, but she's home now! Safe and home! Why would he be so afraid of her being out that late?

Then I remember: She was in New Orleans. In the French Quarter. With the town's top "bad-boy." Me. But he doesn't need to know that part. He doesn't need to know anything about what happened tonight. Nobody does. As far as I know, he thinks she was up at the college all night, getting stuck in traffic.

But something tells me Casey's gonna come looking for me again. Then what kind of excuse would she come up with? If she "gets caught in traffic" too much, he's gonna suspect something.

_Stop worrying! _I scold myself. _She's sly and can take care of herself! If she gets caught, what's the worst that can happen? Me taken back to jail. She won't get hurt. _I have to repeat this a couple of times before I start to believe it. _She'll be fine! _

Then it hits me:

"Why the heck am I thinkin' like this?" I mumble to myself.

The only other time I've had these thoughts was when I first met Bella. And Rogue. And...

Oh no.

I look up at the window again. "You sure did sneak up on me, didn't ya, cheri?" I whisper, aiming the words at Casey even though I know she can't hear me.

It must have been a loud whisper, 'cause the next thing I know, the window above me is swinging open, Candid's sticking his head out of it, and I'm pushing myself up against the brick wall underneath the window to avoid being seen.

"Somebody out there?"

No.

"Is somebody out there?!" He's shouting now, and I'm fighting the urge to reach up, pull him out of the window, and knock him out.

Candid grunts, shrugs, and shuts the window. Soon, I see it go black as he turns off the light.

"Dang," I mumble. "That was close."

I worm my way around to the front of the house, where a few black S.U.V.s are parked. I can feel my eyes widen, and I freeze in my tracks.

"Too close," I say.

'Cause it's then that I notice the M.R.D. symbol on the door of the car closest to me.

So, Candid must be an M.R.D. officer. And I'm in love with his daughter. Great. And I can only hope that Casey ain't returning the feeling.

'Cause that could get us both into a world of trouble.


	3. Chapter 3: Confused

3

Chapter 3: Confused 

Cautiously, I sneak back up the hill and up to the Mustang, throwing the door open and flopping inside. I sit and think, looking out over the hill and to a window on the second floor that still has the light on. _Casey..._

After a while, the window goes black and everything goes still. The perfect time for me to start procrastinating. My head slams into the tops of my hands, which are grabbing the steering wheel. When it starts to glow purple, I'm very sharply reminded of what I am. Why I will never be able to call Casey mine.

I pull my hands off the wheel (before the car blows up with me in it) and watch the little bolts of purple lightning twist around it before it goes black again. I fold my arms on top of the wheel again and rest my head on top of them and start to think. _If Candid's in the M.R.D., he probably taught Casey to fear and hate all us mutants. Which means, if I see her again, and if she finds out what I really am, she would get me killed. _

My eyes snap open.

_No, she wouldn't! She'd never turn me in. She ain't like that. She ain't one of them. Or is she? No. She can't be. If she was, she wouldn't have been out in the French Quarter as late as she was. Shoot! She wouldn't be in the French Quarter at all! _

I play a slideshow of pictures of the many M.R.D. officers I've run into through my head. _And besides, she's too young and... innocent... to be one of them. She didn't have that hardness in her eyes. She can't be one of them. Correction: she's _not_ one of them! She just... no! _

I close my eyes as I think, and when I open them again, there's sunlight pouring in through the windshield. My back and neck are both stiff from having been bent all night, and when I sit up, my neck pops. Just for a second, I open the car door and step out to stretch my legs.

My eyes wander to the house at the bottom of the hill, and in the sunlight, I realize just how big it is. Judging from this, Candid must not only be an M.R.D. officer, but an important one to have been paid well enough to get a house this big. And the four or five jet black M.R.D. S.U.V.s in the driveway give it away, too. They shine so brightly in the sun that it hurts to look at them.

Just then, the front door opens, and out steps Candid. My guess was good, 'cause he's got on an M.R.D. officer's uniform. I squint to try to get past the sunlight and get a better look. He opens the door to one of the S.U.V.s and gets into the cab. I can hear the engine start from all the way up the hill, hear the gravel crunching underneath the wheels as the car pulls out of the driveway and out of sight, leaving a cloud of dust behind it.

I stand watching for a few more seconds and turn to leave, when I see the back door open and Casey come out of it. She looks around her, almost as if she's making sure nobody's watching her, and starts running up the hill, up and directly behind the house. I stay put until her body disappears into the woods and then leave the Mustang behind to go look for her.

Little rays of sunlight poke through the tops of the trees and hit the carpet of fall leaves that line the ground. They crunch under my feet as I walk, and breeze kicks them up and blows my hair back. I don't see Casey anywhere, not even a sign of her, but I keep going.

Soon, I hear leaves crunching behind me and turn around.

"Casey?" I call.

No response.

"Casey?"

A stick falls from a tree above me and hits my shoulder. I look up, and sure enough, there's Casey, sitting in the tree with one leg over either side of the limb and her back up against the trunk. She grins at me mischievously and waves. "You comin' up?"

I point to my boots. "Leather."

She rolls her eyes and laughs. "Gonna make me move. I see how it is." Beaming, she jumps down and comes up to me. "Hey, Remy."

"Petite," I whisper, and without thinking, I pull her into my arms. She sighs happily and puts her head on my chest. We stand there for a moment, holding each other. Feeling each other breathe. Completely happy.

A few minutes pass, and Casey pulls away. She stands there in front of me, looking up at me, and I can tell she's racking her brain for something to say. When it doesn't come, she just smiles. I find myself thinking of something to say, too, but my brain is fried.

The awkward silence stops when we both simultaneously bust out laughing.

Grinning from ear to ear, she says, "C'mon," and grabs my hand and starts to lead me into the woods. We carry on another small talk conversation. It goes just about everywhere, so by the time it's over, I know everything from Casey's favorite color (green) to her shoe size. But as I watch her walk away, that same question that wreaked havoc on my mind last night comes back to torture me:

Would Casey kill me if she knew I was a mutant?

I take a deep breath and call, "Casey!"

She turns around. "Yep."

"Uh... Nevermind. See ya later."

She smiles and walks away, leaving me horribly confused. Still.


	4. Chapter 4: Ashes

8

Chapter 4: Ashes 

"It is pretty nice up here," I say to Casey, who's sitting next to me on that same tree limb.

"I still can't believe you came up here like that," she snickers.

"I wasn't about to mess them up, ya know."

I look down at my boots, which are sitting on the ground at the base of the tree.

Yeah. I just scaled the side of an oak tree in sock feet.

My socks bend as I flex my toes. "Don't think Italian leather and tree bark would get along real well."

She busts out laughing. Over the past month that I've been meeting her in the woods, I've made it a point to make her laugh as much as I can. So she can loosen up, and just so I can hear it again. 'Cause it loosens me up, too. And today, I'm definitely gonna need to loosen up as much as I can.

Today, I've decided, I'm gonna ask that question. And there's no telling what will happen when I do.

There's a long silence in which we both stare at the forest floor beneath us, watching the leaves fly in the breeze. Finally, I sigh and force out the question: "What does your dad do for a livin'?"

She looks at me funny and giggles. "That was random."

"Yeah, but I'd still like an answer."

Casey's brow wrinkles, and she sounds uneasy as she forces the words: "He's an officer in the M.R.D. The head of his division. He's trained to go after mutants."

Here we go. For a month, it's been preying on my mind, and now the time has come to get it off my chest. "So... if you ever met a mutant, what would you do?"

"I'd-"

"She's turn it over to me, so I could take care of it. That's what she'd do." I can definitely tell why Candid's the leader of his division, 'cause it ain't easy for someone to sneak up on me like that, and he just did.

"Casey, get down." His eyes lock with mine and don't leave them.

Without a word, Casey jumps out of the tree. It's almost as if the ground cements her in place, 'cause she doesn't move a muscle.

"Get back home," he demands coldly.

Without a word, Casey shuffles away. I can smell her fear, but the scent of Candid's anger quickly overrides it. As soon as his back is turned, I slide down out of the tree and pull my boots on as quickly as I can and get ready to make a run for it. I start to sneak off as he watches his daughter leave, but my foot nails a twig, and it snaps loudly.

Candid whips around, and I straighten up. He looks at me long and hard, and his eyes get big. "LeBeau?"

I sigh. "Took ya long enough, officer." I find my hand sliding down to my pocket, to a deck of playing cards.

He takes a step closer. "So, after all these years of runnin', I finally catch you. But I will say, I didn't expect to find you here. In a tree." His voice gets so cold, it could have frozen the place solid. "With my daughter."

"Yep." The ace of spades is in my hand, which is behind my back. The card is smooth against my skin, and I turn it over a few times, putting a charge into it. I've decided I'll skip the warning and go straight to the fight, if he threatens me. Or Casey.

He takes a step closer. "You like her?"

"I wouldn't a-been talkin' to her if I didn't, right?"

"Yeah." He takes another step towards me. "And you wanna keep her safe? See her happy?"

"Of course I do."

He closes in and pins my shoulders to the tree. "Then stay away from her," he hisses. "This is a warning, LeBeau. I could take you back now and lock you up, but I'm in a good mood."

I let a cocky grin slide across my face. "I'd just get back out, anyway."

"Maybe. You've done it before, but I can promise you you won't the next time I catch you. I'll kill you if you try to get out."

Blah, blah, blah. Heard it all before. "A lot of people've tried that. It never worked."

He lets me go and takes a few steps back. "It will this time," he declares, pointing his index finger at me. "And I'll be the one to have the pleasure of puttin' that bullet through your skull!"

My eyes must have changed color, 'cause a little bit fear wells up inside him. I can feel it. Finally, I let the charged card go sailing towards him; it hits a tree and explodes. As the fire eats up the tree and vanishes into the air, I make my getaway and dive into that Mustang, jam the key into the ignition, and floor it.

I speed down that same back road Casey and I took the night that we met and pull into downtown New Orleans again. I find the bar, park the car, and go inside. All I know now is that I need a drink. Bad. Even though I know I'll burn the alcohol off in about ten seconds flat (stupid biokinesis!), I still need one. Something to dull the pain and confusion. Nothing does that like feeling bourbon burning in your gut.

By the time I'm out of the bar, it's night. There are stars in the sky. Lots of them. I go back to the parking lot and walk up to the Mustang, and all I can think about is Casey. I can still see her smiling as she climbs into the cab again, but then have to tell myself there's nothing there. No one.

I sigh. I've let so many things slide through my fingers, and Casey will _not_ be one of them. So I get behind the wheel, start the engine, and take off down that back road again.

I stop once I get to the edge of the woods and climb out of the cab. I'm gonna have to rely on every ounce of stealth that I have if I'm gonna see Casey again. I walk down the road in the woods that leads the the clearing where her house is and stop to get my bearings. The light is on in her room, I can see that, as is almost every other light in the house.

Great. Everybody's up. Makes my job a whole lot harder.

After taking a good survey of my surroundings, I start to slide down the hill. Slink around to the house. When I get closer, I see Casey's room not only has a door, but a small balcony with a trellis. I look at my boots, and back to the trellis. If anything scratches leather the easiest, it's metal. And this trellis has a twisting pattern to it, so there is no way I'm climbing it in sock feet.

I grab hold of the trellis and start to climb. I get about halfway up with no trouble, but then the door below me opens and Candid steps out. I freeze.

Thank goodness it's night, or I'd be toast. The moon's on the other side of the house, so the light doesn't hit me. Slowly, I turn my head and watch Candid. He looks up at the wall, close to where I am, and when he doesn't see anything, he steps back inside. A few seconds later, all the lights go out of all of the windows accept Casey's.

I breathe a sigh of relief and keep on climbing. Looking up and the balcony, I then notice that the door is cracked, and I can hear Casey bumping around inside. I smile to myself. _She's alright_, I think.

Suddenly, she runs out onto the balcony, and there's something different about her. Her hair is soaking wet, and it's got red and black highlights running through it. I get a glimpse of her face, and she looks upset. Very upset. She looks around her and goes back inside, still leaving the door cracked. After seeing her like this, I start climbing a little faster. _At least, I think she's alright... _

My foot slips on the metal, and I reach out and grab the pole in front of me as quick as I can. I'm hanging, now. Great. And just made a crapload of noise. It's a miracle no one's waking up. I pull myself back up and get my footing and start to climb the two or three feet I have left before I get onto the balcony.

The door swings back open again, and out comes Casey. She looks even more different from the last time I saw her. On top of the hair, her eyes are purple. _Glowing_ purple. And it looks like she's got a ton of eyeliner on.

Did she go emo in the time between this afternoon and now?

I hear the door shut, but the light's still on. Even if it weren't, I'd keep climbing. I make it the rest of the way up and try to swing myself over the top of the guardrail. I don't land on my feet; as a matter of fact, I practically faceplant and manage to make as much noise as I can.

There's a white curtain pulled in front of the door, and the light goes out from behind it. I stand up and start tapping on the window.

"Casey!" I hiss.

The curtain pulls back to reveal Casey, and when she sees me, she smiles awkwardly and opens the door, stepping outside with me.

"Ya miss me?" I ask cockily.

She gets that same worried look on her face that came when Candid caught us in the woods. A weird protective feeling takes me over, and I pull her to me. She usually just stands there when I hold her, but now she's got her arms wrapped around me and is trembling.

_Trembling? She's not okay. At all. _

"What's the matter, baby?" I whisper.

She sighs shakily. "He said you were dangerous, Remy."

"I ain't denyin' that. I am a thief, you know."

"No," she says, pulling away and looking up at me. "A different kind of dangerous. On top of that. I didn't believe him." She goes over to the guardrail and leans on it, looking over at the woods. "I can't believe him..."

Oh boy. My brow creases. "What did he tell you?"

She stays quiet.

I put my hand on her shoulder. "C'mon, Casey," I say gently. "What did he say?"

She sighs again, and without looking at me, she whispers, "He said you were a... a very powerful... and dangerous..."

"Mutant?"

She nods. "I don't believe him."

I take out a playing card from my pocket and watch as it starts to glow purple. "You should, Casey," I sigh. "You should."

Her eyes get big, and she stutters, "Gambit?"

"'At's my name. Don't wear it out."

She chuckles, but the little bit of a smile on her face melts away with the words: "I don't think you're a threat. Daddy does. If he finds you here, he'll kill you!"

I run my hand along her jaw and get her to look at me. "But if I'm that bad, cheri, why ain't you runnin'?"

"Because..." She sighs, and I can tell what she's getting ready to say ain't gonna come easy. She grabs my hand and leads me up onto the roof. "Nobody'll hear us up here."

"What?"

She smiles nervously. "I've never told anybody this before..."

Dang. It must be good, then.

"You really wanna know why I ain't runnin'?"

I look her dead in those purple eyes and nod. "Spit it out," I whisper.

She sighs shakily. "You remember that fire that burned down the high school a few years ago, right?"

"Yeah..."

"Everybody says it was a bad gas pump accident that caused it. It ain't true."

I can tell she's afraid to tell me this, 'cause it's coming out slow.

"What happened, then?" I ask gently.

She sighs again, but that's all I get in response. She's afraid and upset; I can feel it, and it's starting to eat me up. Sliding up behind her, I take off my shirt, drape it over her shoulders, wrap my arms around her waist, and put my head on her shoulder. "You can tell me, sweetheart," I whisper, nuzzling her neck lightly. "C'mon."

Casey takes a deep breath. "I didn't know what was goin' on. I... I couldn't stop it. It just kept comin' and comin'..."

"What did?"

"The fire."

Oh. I get it. She must have been caught in the fire. And she couldn't get out.

"You were trapped?"

"No, Remy..." I can swear she's on the verge of tears.

I gently kiss the side of her head. "So what happened?"

"The flames... came... from my hand."

Well, that's confusing.

"You lit a match and caught the building on fire?"

"No. Came _out_ of my hands. 'At's why I wear these gloves. My best friend had 'em made for me. They're fireproof. So if I have another episode, the fire hits the inside of the glove."

"Does it burn you?"

"No," she laughs just a little bit. "It just tickles."

We sit in silence for a little while; she reclines on my chest, and I gently hold her. We both start to calm down. A little breeze picks up, and I look at the sky, at the stars. There are hundreds of them. My eyes go back to Casey, who's put her head on my shoulder and closed her eyes.

"So..." I break the silence. "You're a mutant?"

"Yeah," she says sadly. "In case you were wonderin', my hair and eyes are part of the mutation."

"I figured."

"I know, I look psychotic."

I laugh softly. "Psychotic is good.'"

She smiles. "The black around my eyes really just makes it," she mumbles. "You have no idea how much concealer it takes to cover it up."

"Well," I chuckle, "you'll never need eyeliner again."

She laughs and slaps me. Hard. "Shut up, Remy!"

I laugh out loud (knowing how risky it is and not caring.) "But," I say, collecting myself, "when I first met you, you were solid blonde with brown eyes. Is that how you looked before the mutation?"

"Yeah," she replies. "I've gotta work two jobs so I can afford all the hair dye and brown contacts to keep me lookin' the same." She laughs. "If Mama saw me like this, she'd have a cow."

"Yeah, she probably would."

She glares at me and suppresses a smile. "I'm surprised _you_ didn't. I look like a freak!"

"Try 'beautiful mess'."

She rolls her eyes good-naturedly. "Oh, please."

"No. It's true. First time I saw you, you were just cute. But now... you're... stunning..." _She's gonna think I'm an idiot... _

Casey looks at me like I've got corn stalks growing out of my ears. "Have you seen these?" she sounds disgusted, and she motions to her eyes, which still glow deep purple.

I smile. "I've always had a thing for purple..."

She leans back into me and sighs. There's a short silence, in which a bunch of crickets start chirping.

"I never in a million years thought this would happen," Casey says.

"Thought what would happen?"

There's a little pause before Casey says: "That somebody would find out what I really am and not shun or try to kill me because of it."

"Shun you?" I ask, putting a little fake wonder into it. "Shoot. They don't know what they're missin'."

She smiles again. "You are too sweet, Remy."

I grin and pull her a little closer. I let my eyes wander around the ground below us (even at night, the view from up there is pretty good), across the woods, up and down the hill, and right to the M.R.D. S.U.V.s in the driveway...

"Hang on a minute," I say more seriously.

"What is is?" Casey asks.

"You're a mutant... and your dad works for the M.R.D..."

She pulls away and looks me in the eyes. "I know. Every day I live constant fear that he's gonna find out."

"And it's the father that passes the mutant gene... hypocritical..."

A mutant hunting down other mutants? What?!

She laughs just a little bit. "I was adopted when I was seven months old. So no, he ain't a mutant. And nobody knows I am other than my best friend and you." She sighs. "Not yet."

I try to fight it back, but I can feel my face twisting into a horrified expression.

"What is it, Remy?"

"You're a mutant, and your dad works for the M.R.D."

"Yeah. And I can't get away! I'll never be able to!"

Gently, I brush her sidebang out of her face and rest my hand on the side of her neck. "Yes, you will."

"What? How?"

"Come with me. We could run now."

"I...I couldn't..."

"Casey, you have to. You could be killed if you're discovered."

She sighs. "And you'll be killed if they find you with me!"

"Casey, do you really think that matters to me?"

She just stares at the ground and says, "Your boots are scratched."

"That's beside the point, Casey." I lean in a little closer to her and whisper, "I'm willin' to risk a whole lot more than a scratch on these boots to save you."

I did not just say that. Everybody knows that given the choice between someone else's life and mine... I'd save mine. But after seeing and feeling the fear behind her eyes, I'm not sure if that's a true statement anymore. Judging from what just I said, it sure doesn't sound like it.

She still looks at the floor. "Really?"

I say softly, "Do I look like I'm lyin' to you?"

She stays quiet, and I tilt her head up to look at me, hoping that'll get her to say something.

"Do I?"

When she doesn't respond, I lean in and kiss her gently. She doesn't fight it, like I think she's going to, but gives in and kisses me back. She breaks it and buries her face into my shoulder, and I hold her close to me.

"No, Remy," she finally answers my question, and even though her voice is muffled, I can tell she's on the verge of tears. "You don't. I'll go."

"Good," I smile. Her body begins to shake, and I feel my shoulder getting wet. "Shhh," I whisper. "You'll be alright, I promise. I'll take you somewhere safe. Don't cry." I start stroking her hair, and she relaxes a little bit. "I know you're scared, but you'll be alright. I promise. Shhh..."

I feel her start to calm down, but I still hold her for a good while. Then I start thinking about how we're gonna do this. How will we run without being detected? Candid's bound to find out. What kind and how big of a mess have we gotten ourselves into?


	5. Chapter 5: Running

Chapter 5: Running 

You know that weird feeling you get when you know something is happening, but it seems so unreal that you think it's a dream? That's about how I feel know. I'm sitting on the end of Casey's bed, listening to her bumping around in her bathroom, topping off the little bit of packing that she decided she had to do. It's been about fifteen minutes since she let me in, and I'm starting to get a little impatient. Up to now, I've been thinking of everywhere I've run to in the past that's safe enough to take her to. The French Quarter, even though it's near impossible to find one person in the back alleys, is out. That'll be the first place Candid would look. I don't wanna take Casey outta the country; that would put even more stress on her. So…

That narrows it down to just about nowhere. Wonderful.

To pass the time, I pull out the card deck from my pocket and start shuffling it in my hands, feeling the little breeze the cards make tickle my palms. I see the ace of spades for all of a millisecond and wonder how soon it will be before I have to use it again.

A loud thump from the bathroom makes my head snap up, and soon I hear the door handle turning. Not but two seconds later, Casey all but dives out her bathroom door, holding a small, black duffle that's got a spare change of clothes, something to sleep in (if we ever get the chance to stop, which I doubt), and what she's got left of the hair dye, concealor, and anything else she might need to make her look half-way normal. Not that she'll have the time to do any of that, I've told her, but she grabs it just in case.

I feel my eyebrows rise, questioning Casey about her next move without words. Cautiously, she opens her bedroom door and sticks her head out, checking to see if anyone's out there. Soon, I see her body disappear into the dark hallway and hear her old, beat-up tennis shoes squeaking down the hall. Because the rest of the house is so quiet, every sound she makes is deafening; every time her foot hits the floor, I cringe. If there's one thing I've learned about thieving, it's that silence is your best friend. And as of now, it ain't on our side.

The door swings open suddenly, and I jump. When Casey comes through the door, I sigh with relief. Getting back on my own feet (and silently wincing when the floor squeaks under them), I tip-toe over to the door and whisper, "Can your shoes be any louder, petite?"

She smiles bashfully and shrugs.

"C'mon," she says softly, motioning for me to follow her down the hallway. I follow her exact moves, almost as if I'm stepping in a trail of invisible footprints she's leaving behind. We're trying to make as little noise as possible, but since Casey's shoes and the floor they're walking on are both old and creaky, that's not turning out to be an easy task.

We get about halfway down the stairs when the unthinkable happens.

We hear a door open from somewhere downstairs, and a few seconds later, Candid walks down the hallway. As quietly as I can, I clamp my hand over Casey's mouth and drag her down to lay flat on the staircase by me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Candid stop for a few seconds, almost turn around, and go into the room at the right of the base of the stairs. When I hear water running, I guess it's the kitchen.

"This is the best chance we've got," Casey's whispering so softly, I can barely hear her. "We've gotta run _now._"

She nods toward the door and carefully stands up, me close behind her. Cautiously, she slinks down the stairs, ready to make a run for the door if Candid shows up again. Her feet touch the third stair. The second stair. The first stair…

And it creaks loudly.

Casey jumps off of it like it had just burned the bottom of her foot, and her landing's louder than the creak. I see her cringe and move to take another step forward.

We hear heavy, quick footsteps from the other side of the kitchen door and freeze.

Suddenly, Casey breaks for the front door and throws the lock quickly. The door noisily swings open, and she stops in the doorframe, worriedly looking back up at me. The scent of her fear is so overwhelming, it nearly knocks me over.

I look out of the corner of my eye and see the kitchen door handle start to turn. Completely ditching the idea of being quiet, my nerves take over as I make a beeline for the door.

The kitchen door swings open, and Candid's jaw drops when he sees me.

"Go!" I all but bark at Casey, who's off like a shot. I'm right on her heels, speeding out the door and slamming it behind me. I can't see Casey, but I turn towards the side of the house and fly up the hill to where I parked the Mustang.

I can hear Candid screaming at both of us, and of course, this only makes me go faster. After a few more strides, I'm by Casey's side (she's surprisingly fast for her small size.) When I start to pass her, I reach for her arm and catch hold of it, dragging her with me. I'm not about to risk her falling behind now.

As we run up the remainder of the hill and into the woods, I hear the engine of an S.U.V. growling from behind. Casey and I dive into the Mustang, which I purposely parked just out the line of sight, stopping to catch our breath.

"Well…" I gasp after a while. "'At was close."

Casey, who's still out of breath, can only point to something just outside the windshield.

"_That thing has four-wheel drive?!_" I fairly shriek, headlights blinding me. Without waiting to recover from this, I slam on the gas and do a one-eighty on the road, kicking up a bunch of leaves and a huge cloud of dust. I fly down that same back road again, but unlike the last time Casey and I were back here, we're being followed. And the only thing blaring in our cab is the roar of the engine.

We speed into that not-so-well-lit back parking lot and onto the main road. Even at two thirty in the morning, it's surprisingly clear. By now, around twelve of those S.U.V.s are following us (Candid must have called for some sort of reinforcement). Thankfully, a Mustang can get through smaller spaces than an S.U.V., so as soon as I get the chance, I swerve into one of the alleys. When one of the S.U.V.s tries to follow, I pull a card out of my pocket, put a good charge into it, and throw it behind the window. It doesn't hit the car, but it puts up an extra barrier in between us and them.

Buildings pass in tall, brown blurs as we speed through the alley. After a few seconds of quiet, gunfire peppers the air.

"Wonderful," I mumble, shuffling a deck of playing cards in one while steering the Mustang with the other. "Just wonderful."

My job just got a whole lot harder. Yippee.

A last-second swerve keeps us from nailing the side of one of the buildings, and we shoot out from the alley and onto another, thin dirt road. A few bullets ricochet off the packed dirt…and right onto the bumper. Great.

The lights and sirens die out as we speed down the hill and out towards the interstate. Casey looks over her shoulder and sighs with relief. "I think we lost them," she says.

"Yeah," I mumble. "But we ain't seen the last of them."


	6. Chapter 6: Freedom

**Hey, everybody! **

**Sorry for the INSANELY LONG WAIT for the update! In between AP and honors classes at school, volleyball and getting really sick, I've had no time to write WHATSOEVER. SOOOO INCREDIBLY SORRY! I'm gonna stop rambling so you can read. Enjoy! **

* * *

Chapter 6: Freedom

It's been almost a year since Casey and I ran off, and no one has found us. The M.R.D. chased us for a good six months, up through Texas and into Vegas, where they had us cornered.

Long story short, that was probably the single scariest night of the whole run. Casey and I got separated, and had it not been for Casey's lack of solid blonde hair at the time, they would have recognized her, caught her, and dragged her back to Louisiana, kicking and screaming.

And when I finally _did_ find her, she was standing about a block or two away from the M.R.D. headquarters.

And it was on fire.

She soon told me that the M.R.D. had chased her there, and when they tried to trap her in, she yanked off one of her gloves and sent a pillar of fire into the side of it.

I lost count of how many headlines that little stunt made.

Apparently the building burned to the ground and a bunch of equipment was destroyed in the fire, as well as a few big egos.

To say I was proud of her would be an understatement. We didn't lose them that night, but she did let them (and me) know that she meant/means business.

They tried to push us farther north and get us cornered in Portland, but we both saw that one coming and got out of there in the nick of time. Once we crossed the border into Canada, we lost them. At every border patrol station in the north, there's an M.R.D. officer on the lookout for me. It almost seems as if now, the M.R.D. is using all of its resources for the sole purpose of tracking me down and "rescuing" Casey.

I know for a fact that she definitely doesn't need "rescuing", or even want it, for that matter. As far as she's concerned, _I'm_ the one that saved _her_. She and I have a mutual feeling that I had a good reason to, too.

For the six months we've been hiding in Alaska, it's almost as if she's become a completely different person. Those purple eyes of hers shine whenever she smiles (which is a whole lot more than she used to.) And the last time she ran out of hair dye, she didn't bother to go get more. So now, Casey, the _real_ Casey, is sitting inside watching T.V. while I stand outside on our pathetic excuse of a front porch, getting some fresh air.

The volume on the T.V. suddenly gets a lot louder, and I hear Casey shuffle. When I turn around, she's leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, eyes glued to the screen. If something's got her attention like that (and it ain't me), it must be pretty important.

"Remy!" she calls.

I make my way inside and stand behind the couch, putting my hands on either side of Casey's shoulders and leaning up against the couch.

"Look at this…" She sounds pretty shocked. And after watching for a few seconds, I find out why.

There's a reporter on screen at one of the border patrol stations. She sounds pretty put together, but I can see it in her eyes that she's anything but. "Can you tell me _why_ you decided to call it off?" she asks calmly. When the camera shifts to show the person she's "interrogating," my jaw drops.

For once in his life, Candid actually looks… defeated.

"It's been almost six months since we've heard or seen any of LeBeau. And the whole time we were chasin' him, we never did find or even see Casey. There was another mutant with him in Vegas, but that sure as heck wasn't my daughter. That thing was fiery… literally."

The reporter chuckles. "No kidding."

Casey's jaw drops.

"Anyways," the reporter continues. "Why _did_ you decide to call it quits on the hunt for your daughter?"

I can't see Casey's face, but I can tell she's starting to smile. Her hand reaches behind her and grabs mine, and I give it a reassuring squeeze.

"Well…" Candid sighs. "There's no telling where LeBeau took her. We put a tracking device on that Mustang, but our radars suddenly stopped picking it up once he and his… _sidekick_… left Portland."

"And it sure made good firewood," Casey snickers. I chuckle.

"After that…" Candid continues. "We posted lookouts at every border patrol station on the Canadian border, just in case he really got stupid and tried to come back. But it's been six months since then, and knowing LeBeau, I would think he would have come back in two or three weeks, probably with Casey." He sighs. "If he wasn't back by winter, I decided, I'd tell everyone to pack up and head back to Louisiana. It's almost spring now… and still no sign of either of them."

"Do you have any idea where Casey might be? Or what's happened to her?"

Candid runs his hand across his mouth and says shakily, "That's just it, ma'am. We don't know where she is. As for what LeBeau has done to her or with her or made her do, I've got a pretty darn good idea as to what it could have been. Knowing him… it probably wasn't pretty." He sighs. "She's probably out in the middle of nowhere, scared to death, wondering where the heck I am. Either that or…"

"Or what?"

"She…" His voice breaks. "She could be dead."

"Dead?" Casey almost sounds hurt. "Scared? I'm _fine_, Daddy. And happy. Happy to be away from "home" and away from you."

Ouch.

"So…" the reporter looks stricken, but her voice is still calm. "You're calling it off because you've given her up for dead?"

Candid nods.

Silence.

"And if you catch LeBeau, what's in store for him?"

Candid's face twists in anger. "He is a dead man." The tone of his voice says that the death I would die would probably be a slow and painful one.

Crap.

I move around to the front of the couch and sit next to Casey, who puts her head on my shoulder. She grabs the remote and turns off the T.V., and we sit in silence for a while.

"You know what this means, petite?" I've never been one for dead quiet unless I'm "at work," so I decide I'm gonna break it.

"What?" Casey says, reaching for my arm and putting it over her shoulders.

"Candid's given up. There's no one at those patrol stations. Which means…"

Casey's voice drops to a relieved whisper. "We can go home."

"When you say "home," you don't mean Louisiana, do you?"

Casey shakes her head. "I was thinking more along the lines of that place in New York you told me about."

"Westchester?"

"Yeah."

I nod. "'At's what I was thinking, too. It's out in the middle of nowhere and kinda hard to find unless you know exactly where you're goin'."

"Kinda like here."

"Yeah… except you don't have to travel all day to get to the nearest gas station."

Casey laughs out loud (she knows I'm exaggerating). Sitting up and turning so she can see my face, she smiles at me and whispers, "We've done it, Remy. It's… it's done. We… we don't have to worry about _them_ anymore." She beams, and pushing a little piece of hair out of my face, she leans in and kisses me. After she breaks it, she puts her head on my chest and puts her arm around my waist. "We're… free…"

Just about every single time I've picked up on Casey's emotions, she's either been scared, uptight, or nothing at all, up till now. As of now, "overjoyed" is an understatement for her. I smile to myself; for the first time since that day in Louisiana's backwoods all those months ago, she's pretty happy, and it's rubbing off on me.

The only sound we can hear now is the rain hitting the top of the tin roof of the house, and the next time I check up on Casey, she's asleep in my arms. Gently, I pick her up, take her to her room, and lay her on her bed, pulling a blanket over her shoulders and closing the door behind me.

Because if she fell asleep with me, I'd be barbecue the next morning. Sometimes, I _still_ don't understand that woman…

* * *

"We're… free…" Casey's words echo in my head as I try to go to sleep. I know if Candid _truly_ has thrown in the towel, she's darn right. We _are_ free.

But I've got a sneaky feeling that our days of running and hiding and dealing with him are far from over.


	7. Chapter 7: Heading Back

Chapter 7: Heading Back

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't go to sleep last night. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that news report. I saw Candid standing outside of the border patrol station. I heard him telling his story all over again. I did eventually get to sleep about an hour before I was supposed to wake Casey up, but it was anything but peaceful. I couldn't get rid of the picture of Candid, no matter how hard I tried to. There was this look in his eye that seemed to scream that he wasn't throwing in the towel. And that he was coming for us.

He never seemed like he was the type to give up so easily anyway.

Ever since Casey woke me up this morning, I've been picking up on a little worry from her, as well. But every time I've asked her about it, she's just smiled and said she was fine.

"I really think you're overthinkin' this, Remy," she says as we climb into the Mustang. "Every time my dad has said that he was gonna do somethin', he's meant it." She smiles. "We'll be fine."

I shake my head. "I don't know, petite…" I put the key in the ignition and start to drive away from our little hideout. "Somethin' 'bout the way he said it just told me otherwise." I pause. "But… then again… he is your father… an' I guess you know him better than I do. I… I probably am just lettin' myself think too much."

Casey laughs to herself. "Yeah. And bad things tend to happen when you think too much…"

I chuckle. "Like what?"

"Oh… I dunno… jewel heists… car chases… bourbon…"

I snicker. "I get the point. And you left out angry MRD officers… Vegas…"

"Angry MRD officers _in_ Vegas…"

"That was you."

Casey nods. "Guess I'm rubbin' off on ya, then."

She laughs, and I can't help but laugh with her.

"But…" she says, "what we thought was one of those bad ideas probably saved my life. And once we get back in the lower 48, things should go back to normal again."

I sigh. "Man, I sure hope they do…"

* * *

The drive through Alaska and Canada is pretty uneventful. The back road we're on now is long, narrow, and empty. I think about jumping onto the interstate to make things go a little faster, but I finally decide it would be too dangerous.

If I were by myself, I would have done it a long time ago. I might have even left the country. But now that I've got Casey with me, my priorities have changed a little bit.

As we've gotten closer to the border, she and I both have been getting more and more wary. Right now, Casey is sitting up and looking out the window, watching for any signs of anyone following us. She's trying to hide it, but I can tell she's beginning to get uneasy.

The little road finally merges with the highway, and as soon as I speed up, Casey's nerves skyrocket.

"Calm down, petite," I say. "Nobody's lookin' for us out here."

At least, there better not be.

We pass over a hill, and a border patrol station pops up in front of us. Casey swallows hard. As we get closer to the station, I start scoping it out.

"'At's weird…" I mumble.

"What?" Casey sounds a little freaked out.

"Nobody's stoppin'," I reply. "Thought the border patrol stopped you before you went in."

The Mustang is about halfway down the hill when Casey suddenly leans forward. She squints into the sun and stares down the station.

"Don't see anybody," she says solemnly.

She turns around in her seat and looks out the back window.

Her eyes get big.

"Uh… Remy…"

"Yeah?"

"You might wanna…"

"Wanna do what?" I look over my shoulder, and my heart stops.

A few shiny, black SUVs come over the top of the hill.

And they're headed straight for us.

"Well, don't just sit there! Go!" Casey shrieks.


	8. Chapter 8: On the Run Again

Chapter 8: On the Run Again

I dig the gas pedal into the floor, sending the Mustang flying down the hill. I keep my eyes glued to the U.S. side of the road and watch as it gets closer and closer. If we hit this right, we'll shake these officers in a few seconds.

We're almost to the station. Casey and I both are holding our breath.

20 feet… 10 feet…

The crossing arm begins to drop in front of us.

5 feet…

I cringe. _There's no way we're gonna make it_…

By some miracle, we manage to pass underneath the crossing arm right before it drops all the way down. The SUVs are forced to stop. I hear a little bit of gunfire, and an officer shouting at the top of his lungs.

Candid.

"There's more of them coming!" Casey warns as she sits back down in her seat. As if on cue, I see a few more black SUVs file in behind us. A window opens, and I see the front half of a machine gun come through it.

"And they're armed…" I growl. "Great! Just great!"

The gun fires, and a few more bullets ricochet off the Mustang's bumper.

Suddenly, the breeze in the cab picks up. I look to my right and see that Casey has rolled down the window and is beginning to stick her head out of it.

"What are you doing?!" I bark. "Get back in here before one of them shoots you!"

Casey gives me a look, yanks off her right glove, sticks her head out of the window, and sends a pillar of fire right towards the SUVs.

I look in the rearview again. Where three black cars once stood, now there is a wall of fire that stretches all the way across the highway.

After sitting back down, Casey rolls the window back up and puts her glove back on.

"I thought I'd give them a piece of my mind," she says flatly.

I grin. "'At's my girl."

* * *

We drive on for about another ten minutes or so without anything more happening. Casey leans back in her chair, and it almost looks like she's trying to go to sleep.

It is dead silent inside the cab, and outside, nothing is going on. The sun has started to set.

"We're in New York, now, Casey," I whisper, gently shaking her shoulder. "We're almost there."

Groggily, Casey sits up. "Huh?"

"We've got about another hour until we get to Westchester."

"Good," Casey yawns. Her face is a little hard to see in the fading sunlight, but I can tell she's smiling.

I get off the highway and onto a dirt back road. "There's nobody back here," I say. "And I don't think Candid knows we're coming this way."

Casey nods. "He'll be lookin' for us in a big city, probably."

Bright lights flash from through the trees, and I can see a lot of people moving between them.

"Uh… Remy…" Casey sounds unsure.

"It's nothin', petite," I reply. "It's nothin'."

I round the corner, and Casey stifles a scream.

"I don't think this was part of the plan," she says flatly.

We're surrounded by about 30 black SUVs and lot of men with machine guns.

"Well…" Casey's voice is trembling. "What now?"

I sigh. "We get out."

"_What?!_"

I put my hand on Casey's shoulder. "Just get out and make sure they know you're not armed."

Slowly, Casey opens the car door, steps out, and puts her hands in the air.

An officer comes up to Casey. "Where's LeBeau?" he demands.

"Right here," I say, shutting the car door behind me and leaning up against it. "And not goin' anywhere."

More officers pour out of the cars and surround us. Casey stares at the ground and doesn't say a word.

After a while, Candid pushes through the crowd. He grins. "Finally…" he murmurs. He looks me dead in the eye. "Man… do I have plans for the two of you…"

I notice Casey's no longer staring at the ground, but looking Candid straight in the eye. Slowly, her hand moves to her glove.

"Don't even think about it," I warn her. Her hand drops to her side.

Candid nods, and a few officers come forward and grab us. I can tell Casey's thinking about breaking free and running for it. She starts to struggle.

"Don't fight them!" I call to her as she's being dragged away. "They'll kill you if you do!"

I see Casey relax a little, and she doesn't protest when the officers tell her to get in the back of an SUV.

Before I can even think about doing anything, Candid steps in front of me and socks me in the face as hard as he possibly can. I collapse to the ground, and I feel handcuffs being clamped around my wrists. One of the officers rams his fist into the back of my neck, and everything suddenly goes black.

They know I'm a fighter.

* * *

I wake up in the back of an SUV just long enough to rub the back of my neck before the officer knocks me out cold again.

It's a good thing Casey doesn't know what's coming...


	9. Chapter 9: Caught

Chapter 9: Caught

Slowly, I begin to come around. I'm dizzy and the back of my neck is throbbing. I can hardly think. All I know is that Casey is around here somewhere. So is Candid.

And I'm not even sure where "here" is. All I can say's that it's not exactly a happy place.

The floor, ceiling, and walls of what I'm guessing is my cell are all made up of white brick. It's so white that, right now, it hurts to look at it. All light and sound is painful at the moment.

Grabbing one of the bars of the cell door in front of me, I try to pull myself to my feet. The room starts to spin so violently that I don't even realize that I've let go of the bar before I'm lying on my back again. I close my eyes and try to let it pass.

When I open my eyes again, I stare at the ceiling for a while before trying to move. Cautiously, I grab the bar again and slowly put my feet on the ground. The back of my neck still hurts, but it's not quite as bad.

The pain in my right arm is a whole lot worse. And I don't even know what they or I did to it.

Slowly, I pick it up and look at it. A small wound, that had been bleeding not too long ago, is almost in the middle of my forearm. Suddenly, a tiny blue light blinks through my skin.

They've put a tracking device into my arm. Wonderful.

Squinting, I look out of the front of my cell to try to get an idea of my surroundings. Nothing but long, white walls, more cells, and a huge iron door at the end of the hallway.

And if Casey is behind that door…

I'm not even going to finish that thought.

I put my arm up against the cell door, rest my head on it, and start to think about my situation. How on Earth am I supposed to get Casey out of here alive if I've got a tracking device in my arm?

_Wait…_

After making sure there's no one around, I stick my arm through the cell bars. No alarm goes off, and the device just blinks the same way it did beforehand.

So the tracker is in no way connected to the cell…

I gingerly run my hand down the front of the cell and feel for a keyhole. My hand hits something, and I look down.

It's not a keyhole, but a key_pad_. At least… I think it's a keypad…

Great. This is gonna be a lot harder than I thought it was gonna be. Candid was serious when he said he was ready for me…

Suddenly, the door at the end of the hallway opens, and a few guards step out. Another one behind them is holding an unconscious Casey. And following him is Candid.

"She didn't say a word," Candid says, stopping in front of my cell. He turns and glares at me. "Maybe this one'll be a little more… cooperative."

My eyes get big. _Oh… no…_

Candid puts his hand on the keypad-type-thing. It reads his handprint, beeps, and unlocks the cell.

Yep. There's a very small chance I'm making it out of this one.

Roughly, Candid steps forward, slaps a pair of handcuffs on me (I'm still too out of it to try to fight him off), and drags me out of the cell. I'm staring at the floor, but I know where we're heading. I cringe.

I hear the iron door slam shut behind me, and I'm thrown on the floor. A dim light turns on, and I can tell there are a few people in here. And they're probably armed.

But the only one I can see is Candid.

"You've been on the run for over a year now," Candid's voice is as lethal as the weapon he's holding. "Halfway through that year, you went missing. So did Casey." He grabs my shoulders and slams them against the wall. "What did you do to her?"

I sigh. "Nothin'," I whisper.

The scent of Candid's anger is overwhelming. "Liar," he hisses.

"I'm dead serious," I say, a little bit more forward than I was before. "She agreed to come with me-"

I'm cut off by a hard smack across the face.

"I'm not playin' around this time, Gambit," Candid snarls. "I know my daughter better than anyone. And she would _not_ have come with you on her own terms. She knows how dangerous you are... and what you're capable of."

"Then how come she never tried to run?" I pant.

Smack.

"You left with her, but you didn't come back with her!" Candid roars. "What did you do to her?!"

"I wouldn't hurt her if my life depended on it…"

"Sure you wouldn't," Candid growls. He gives my ribs a good kick. "Now I want the truth, LeBeau, and I'll kill ya to get it. Where is my daughter?"

"You… you wouldn't believe the truth… even if I told you…"

Candid gets down in my face. "Really?" he retorts. "Try me."

Alright then.

"She's here…" I say slowly.

"_Where?!_"

"In the cell you just closed. She came with me…"

Absolute silence.

"That monster is _not_ my Casey," Candid says coldly.

"Uh… yeah it is."

Candid rams his fist into my nose as hard as he possibly can. I see stars and feel a little blood trickle down the front of my face.

"What was that for?" I grunt. "You wanted the truth, so I told you."

All I get in response is another swift kick to the gut. I lay on the ground, coughing and trying to catch my breath.

"Like I said," Candid's leaning over me now. "That _mutant_ is not my daughter. And if you try to tell me otherwise one more time, this bullet's goin' between your eyes."

I'm now going cross-eyed over a black machine gun.

"I'm gonna ask you again, Cajun," Candid says slowly. "Where is my daughter?"

So… Candid's threatening me to lie? Fine then.

I've always been told I was a good liar.

"Caldecott…" I heave. "She's in Caldecott…"

"Where's that at?" Candid sounds urgent.

"Mississippi bayou…"

Candid whips around, and a map of the U.S. is projected on the wall in front of me. A tiny red dot shows up at the tip of the Louisiana and Mississippi borders in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico.

"Can we get men down there easily?" one of the guards asks. "It looks pretty isolated."

"Three words," Candid chuckles. "Amphibious landing vehicle." He pauses. "Then we'll search the area until we find her."

I'm sitting with my back against the back wall, trying not to laugh. I can't believe he took the bait.

"Hang on a minute…" Candid mumbles. He turns around and says to me, "If you dropped Casey in the Mississippi bayou… then who's your sidekick?"

Oh, shoot. I say the first thing that comes to my mind.

"Her name's Anna Marie…"

"Last name?"

"She's never told me…"

"Where's she from?"

"Uh…" I stare at the ceiling as if I'm trying to think of it. "Caldecott, actually. Right before I left Casey, I met up with her there… she said she'd help me get as far as the Canadian border… but I guess I grew on her…"

Candid paces to my side, grabs my shoulders, and forces me to my feet. He nods to the guard behind me. "Take him back," he orders. "I got what I wanted."

"Move it, Cajun," the officer growls, giving me a good shove. I stumble, but I catch myself before I can fall. As the iron door closes behind me, I can hear Candid giving orders to his men.

As I stare at the ground, a sly grin slides across my face. _He took the bait,_ I keep thinking. _He took the bait…_

After he takes off my handcuffs, the officer slams the door shut behind me. The scanner reads his hand, beeps, and the door locks.

_So if Candid's not the only one that can unlock that cell… _

I smile to myself.

"That's it…" I whisper. Slowly, I lie down and fold my hands behind my neck. "If you thought you were ready for me, Candid," I say to myself, "then you ain't seen nothin' yet."


	10. Chapter 10: Nothing But Flames

Chapter 10: Nothing But Flames

For the past day that I've been in the cell, I've done nothing but plotting. I've lost count of how many times I've broken out of jail in general, but I've only escaped from the MRD a few times. The most recent of those must still be implanted in Candid's mind.

Last time, the cells had a keyhole. Last time, the guards were nowhere near as careful or alert as they are now. Last time, I stole the keys, unlocked the cell, and ran for it. Last time, there were no tracking devices, scanners, or interrogations.

And last time, I was alone.

I've pretty much figured out in the past few hours that any one guard can unlock any of the cells with the touch of his hand. None of them have keys, which means I don't have a lock to pick or keys to "borrow."

I still need to figure out how to get one of the guards within half an arm's length of my cell, where the Mustang is, and what they've done with Casey.

But my biggest roadblock right now is the tracking device.

I can't run with that thing in my arm. With the push of a button, the MRD would figure out where I was, hunt me down, and kill me pretty quickly.

The iron door at the end of the hallway opens. It makes me jump, but I don't go to the back of the cell. Something is keeping me at the front. I look down the hallway towards the door and see one guard come out of it.

He looks pretty out of it. And I know he's out of it when he comes and stands in front of my cell with me at the front of it.

"Comfortable?" he jeers.

When he doesn't move, I realize this is my chance.

Before he has a chance to step away, I reach through the cell bars, grab the front of his shirt, and slam him into the front of the cell as hard as I can. He falls to the ground unconscious.

"Somebody probably heard that," I say to myself, bending over and grabbing the man's wrist. As quickly as I can, I drag his arm up the front of the door and push his hand against the scanner. It reads, beeps, and unlocks the cell.

As soon as the door opens, I sprint down the hallway in search of something to deactivate the tracking device. There's nothing here, so I open the closest door. After making sure no one's there, I sneak out the door, looking for anything that looks like a deactivator. When I come to the end of the hallway, I find a small machine mounted on the wall that has the same blue light coming out of it that blinks in the tracker. There's something that looks like a huge syringe (now I'm really glad I wasn't awake when they put that thing in) hanging above it.

Carefully, I stick my arm into the tube and wait. I hear another series of beeps, and after they're done, I pull my arm out and scrutinize it. When about 30 seconds have gone by without the blinking, I know it's been deactivated.

I turn and run back down the hallway I came, searching for Casey as I go. Suddenly, the arm that has the bad tracker in it begins to burn. I ignore it and keep running. Something cuts my skin from the inside, and I hear something small hit the ground behind me.

I stop, grab my arm again, and push up the sleeve. It's bleeding from the same place where I found the nasty cut in it last night. I turn around and look at the floor.

The little pool of my blood really pops on the white brick. In the middle of that pool is the tracking device.

_So it works itself out once it's deactivated. Creepy._

But when I try to pick it back up, I find it's latched to the floor. And not going anywhere. If someone sees this before they find my empty cell, they'll know I got out.

Clever, Candid. Clever.

A sound from one of the other hallways sends me flying through the open door and into the room where my old cell is. I run down the other side, away from the iron door, looking in the cells as I go.

Sitting in the back corner of a smaller cell is Casey. When she sees, me, she jumps to her feet.

"Hang on a second," I say, turning back around and going down the hallway again. When I come back, I've got the unconscious guard slung over my shoulder.

"What the heck…?" Casey looks confused and astounded.

"I found the key," I say as I drop the body one the ground, drag the hand to the scanner, and open her cell.

As soon as the door opens, she runs into my arms. After holding her for a little while, I let her go and put my hands on her shoulders.

"You ok, petite?"

Casey nods. "For the most part." She scratches at her arm.

"You, too?"

"Yeah," Casey says shakily. "Didn't feel good goin' in, either."

I chuckle. "I'll bet." I glance over my shoulder. "C'mon. Let's get that thing out before-"

I'm cut off by someone shouting and the sound of people running. The door that I just came through flies open, and a few freaked out guards come sprinting through.

"Time to go," I mutter, grabbing Casey's arm and pelting towards the closest door.

"Where are we going?" Casey yells.

"Away from here!" I reply.

I fling the nearest door open and all but dive into it, Casey on my heels. Casey grabs a chair in front of an empty cell and wedges it under the doorknob. She then leans up against the wall next to the door and stops to catch her breath.

"Don't get too comfortable, petite," I warn. "That ain't gonna hold them off for long."

One of the guards tries to kick down the door, and Casey jumps.

"You have any idea where they've put the Mustang?" I shout over the banging. "Or what they've done with it?"

No response.

"I'll take that as a 'no'."

I hear more heavy footsteps, and the shouting and banging gets louder. When I hear Candid bark a few orders, a chill runs up my spine. Suddenly, the door's hinges break, and several officers step through.

I pull Casey behind the nearest wall with me and wait for them to run past.

Casey taps my shoulder. When I turn around, she's pointing to a sign down the hallway we're hiding in. There's a big, white arrow on it with the word "garage" above it.

"Good eye, petite," I whisper. Looking over my shoulder to make sure no one's following us, I touch Casey on the shoulder and get her to follow me. We quickly tiptoe in the direction that the sign is leading. Once we round the corner, another large, iron door shows up in front of us. I take a step closer to it, and it slides open.

The garage itself is huge, but the number of vehicles in it is not.

"Where is everybody…?" Casey murmurs.

"Out lookin' for us, probably," I whisper. "Or they're hidin'."

Casey's head whips around and scans the balconies above us. When she sees that there's no one there, I see her relax a little bit. I nod towards the small line of black SUVs and begin to soundlessly head over in their direction.

"Don't follow me, petite," I whisper. "I need you to look over there."

I point to another cluster of vehicles, and she nods. She doesn't make a sound as she moves across the floor (that's probably because her old tennis shoes finally fell apart in Vegas and I got her a good pair of Italian leather boots that don't make any noise whatsoever.)

When she disappears behind an SUV, I jog over to the other side of the garage and begin to look for the Mustang. I go through several rows of cars but don't see it. And when Casey comes back to me, I know she was unsuccessful, as well.

_Alright_. _Not good. _

I scan the walls for any signs of another door. When I don't see anything, I sigh. Then my eyes travel up to the balcony, to a large, open door to what looks like another garage.

I move towards the ladder and start to climb. Casey and I both hardly make a sound as we make our way up. But as soon as we swing up onto the balcony, we both realize we've made a horrible mistake.

A loud siren begins to go off and the doors below us slide open. MRD officers begin to pour into the garage, bent on doing one thing:

Finding the fugitives. And later _killing_ them.

I hear a hissing sound behind us, and when I turn around, I see the door to the other room beginning to close behind me. In the corner of the small hanger is the Mustang.

Without thinking, I shove Casey behind the door and toss her the keys.

"What are you d-"

"Get out of here!" I interrupt her. "I'll find another way out!"

The door seals shut behind me with a loud click. I begin to sneak around the balcony, looking for another door, when I hear a shout from below me. And before I know it, a few officers are climbing up the ladder of the balcony.

I'm trapped.

And there's only one way out.

I reach into the pocket of my trench coat and pull out a small metal rod. With a flick of my wrist, it lengthens out to be a little taller than I am. I hear a gunshot, and a bullet ricochets off the wall behind me. Out of the corner of my eye I see a little bit of purple lightning shooting up the bo staff.

They mean business. So do I. I can already tell this ain't gonna be pretty…

As soon as I see the first officer scramble up to the top of the balcony, I jump down to the ground below me (a good 20 feet) and ram the staff into the ground as hard as I can. The floor glows purple and goes up in one big wave, sending SUVs and people flying in every direction.

I quickly reach into my pocket and throw a charged ace of spades towards the sound of a firing gun. When it's answered by several screams, I know it's hit its mark.

Suddenly, I hear an engine growl from behind a closed door. Everything in the room goes silent, and everyone turns towards one of the walls that is rising.

And through the opening drives the Mustang. A wide-eyed Casey sits in the driver's seat.

Chuckling victoriously, I chuck a card towards the hanger door. Sparks fly from the ceiling, and the door swings open. I see Casey quickly roll down the window and slide over to shotgun. The lights flicker, giving me just enough time to dive into the open window. I stomp on the gas, and the Mustang shoots forward with a roar. Through the rear-view mirror I can see MRD officers (Candid included) scrambling into the remaining SUVs and shooting off after us.

Only one manages to squeeze out from beneath the hanger door before it slams shut. Annoyed, I sigh.

I hold out my palm to Casey. "Card."

She pulls one out from the glove compartment and claps in into my hand. Casey squints when it starts to glow (it's pretty late and the light is bright). After hearing the engine of the SUV kick up, I roll down the window and let it fly out behind me.

In the rear-view mirror, I see nothing but purple flames.

I cheer and pump a fist into the air. Casey tips her head back and laughs triumphantly.

We jump onto the highway and drive on for a few minutes, celebrating. The Mustang rounds the corner and starts to head towards a large, metal bridge.

_Oh, shoot_.

A huge city lights up the sky in front of us. Tall buildings loom overhead. I hear a siren in the distance, and a chill shoots up my spine. The noise gets louder as we get closer, and a squadron of police cars shoots across the street in the distance. With all of them around, it's almost worse than the prison. When nerves shoo away my exhaustion, I can tell Casey and I won't be getting any sleep tonight.

How could we anyway, in the city that never sleeps?


End file.
